


The decoy grooms

by Melanie_D_Peony



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bad Parenting, Eventual Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Multi, Omnipresent yet oblivious, Pining, Swearing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-13 01:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_D_Peony/pseuds/Melanie_D_Peony
Summary: Anathema's and Newt's wedding is about to be spoiled by angry relatives, so it's up to the demon and the angel to save the day again - by pretending to be the happy couple.





	1. Say yes to the dress

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. The author does not own any of these characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What you are feeling,
> 
> It's what I'm feeIing too.
> 
> What you are made of
> 
> It's what I'm made of too."

Aziraphale knocked on the cottage door with three sharp tattoos_ . _

'Anathema, it's us!' He said through the wood. 'We finally got here. Dreadfully sorry for the delay.' 

"Which could have been totally preventable if _ somebody _would let me invest in a satnav.' Crowley shouted over his excuses.

Aziraphale glared at the demon. 

'Why buy a fancy computer when we have a perfectly good map of the area?' He hissed, offended. He was always, _ always _ in defence of print over screen; even despite owning a computer.

'Because a satnav wouldn't have made us drive around in circles for four hours in a town that is a size of a postage stamp. Unlike your navigation.'

'There is nothing wrong with my navigation.' Retorted the angel. 'It's because you can't follow instructions.'

'True.' Grinned the demon, sniggeriny over the added layer of meaning in the word play. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, fondly. That moment, the door flung open and a whirlwind of flowing brown hair, old fashioned clothes and thick, black reading glasses dragged them inside.

'Thank Heavens!' Anathema whispered at them and ignored Crowley's protests. 'Listen, there is no time. Just play along, no matter what I say, okay?' 

And with that she pushed them in the small living room, announcing in a large, theatrical voice.

'The happy couple has finally arrived!' 

Both Aziraphale and Crowley froze on the spot and it was a small miracle that they kept their composure. The only reason why they both were able to maintain their relative calm is because they were not alone. In the middle of the living room a woman stood in a smart pantsuit, stomping her foot impatiently. She looked a little bit like Anathema and a whole lot like the amazons they used to know in the ancient days.

'Mom', continued Anathema, false cheer tainting her voice. 'meet Crowley and Aziraphale.' 

There was a beat of silence, then Aziraphale's dogmatic politeness overrode his embarrassment and he offered a hand to Mrs Device.

'Pleasure to meet you!' 

'Oh, don't bother!' The woman said in a dismissive, slightly irritated voice and completely ignored the outstretched hand. 'I appreciate your loyalty towards my daughter but I wouldn't want to force you to lie on her behalf, so let's just end this charade.'

'What seems to be the problem, Mrs Device?' asked Crowley in a calm, but slightly cold manner. He didn't appreciate the tone of voice she used towards the angel. 

The elder Device pursed her lips. 

'Go ahead, mother.' Anathema snapped at her. 'Say it out loud. Just listen yourself, how paranoid you sound.'

'Basically' sighed Mrs Device, pretending not to hear her daughters comment. 'what my daughter is implying is that this wedding that is to take place today, that she _ organised and payed for _is actually supposed to be yours!' 

It took all Aziraphale's willpower to not to look at Crowley in shock.

'Ah,' he said instead. 'I think I can explain that.' 

He felt both Anathema's and Crowley's eyes on him as he began, allowing his hands to flutter freely around. 

'Ever since Crowley and I broke ties with Heaven and Hell we can't use our powers as we used to, so we are forced to do things in the mundane way. On top of that money's been tight without my angelic wages so…'

He let his voice trail of and gestured about himself to imply today's happenings. He felt comfortable talking to Anathema's mother about transcendent things; she was a witch and a professional descendant after all, she knew Agnes' prophecies intimately and she was aware that demons and angels existed. What he felt uncomfortable about was the lying part, but Anathema's ever so slight, but clearly relieved sigh made that worthwhile.

'Having said that, I understand how upset must you be with us for asking such a big favour from your daughter, but I can assure you, this is all but a temporary hardship and…'

'I personally feel', Crowley jumped in. 'that it is about time somebody did something nice for us. We are only broke because we saved the world. And anyway, we saved the world! This is the least we deserve, I say.'

'So this is the story you are going with?' Mrs Device stopped paying attention to them and turned back to Anathema. 

'I can't see what's so unbelievable about us wanting to get married!' Interrupted Crowley, sounding genuinely offended now.

'Well, for one thing, you are an angel and a demon. You've got nothing in common.'

'Same original stock.' Crowed the demon triumphantly. 

'Fine. So how long have you known each other than?' 

'Mother, you can't come in here and start interrogating my friends, like…'

'No, that's quite all right Anathema.' The angel talked over her. He kept his eyes on the elder Device and felt anger rising in him. He didn't appreciate this kind of bigotry, even from an angel, let alone a human. 'Crowley and I are comfortable with some questions. Am I right, dear?' 

'Big fan of questions, me.' The demon assured him.

'How long than?' Mrs Device demanded. 

'6000 years.' They answered in unison. 

'Where did you first meet?' Continued Mrs Device. 

'Garden of Eden.' Responded Crowley promptly.

'I was on apple tree duty.' Aziraphale offered without hesitation. 

'What was the first thing he ever said to you?' Mrs Device turned to Aziraphale.

'That went down like a lead balloon.' He answered without missing a beat. 

'Oh, I've forgotten.' The demon next to him physically shivered. 'Terrible line.' 

'When did you know you that were in love with him?' She was asking Crowley this time. 

'When he admitted to giving away his flaming sword.' Crowley said firmly and for the first time, Aziraphale couldn't resist looking at him. 

He made sure not to turn his head. They were supposed to know all these things about each other, so he knew he mustn't act surprised. He only moved his eyes. All he could see was the demon's profile, but Crowley looked self assured and not the least bit embarrassed by the question. 

'How about you? When did you fell in love with him?' Mrs Device was addressing the angel now.

'On a rainy night in Mesopotamia. But I didn't come to terms with it until much, much later. Not until the nineteen forties." He was unable to repress a little blush. The key to a successful lie, he knew, was to wrap as much truth in there as possible. This was his most successful lie yet in that sense that it had not had a single grain of dishonesty in it. Aziraphale was telling the truth. But it was safe for him to do so, while this bluff was taking place. It was a little indulgence on his behalf, actually. He could have said any time to specify the beginning of their fake romance. He could have said "ditto" to Crowley's statement because he quite liked the way the demon reassured him back then and the way he moved towards him, oh so vulnerable, when the sound of the first ever thunder startled him; no one ever shown such trust in him before and he could never seriously contemplate the idea of hurting the demon after that. But he could have, just as easily, said Golgota, when he saw the demon standing beside him, full to the brim with compassion so alien to his nature or Paris when he swoon in, for the hundredth time, to save him like it was no big deal, in an act of heroism that always left Aziraphale in ruins for years to come. But his most significant memories, the ones that would haunt him, tug at his heartstrings with the same raw power throughout history, disturb his peace of mind even this day and age, were the image of Crowley, absolutely drenched, sheltering the children with his outstretched arms and wings, his first ever openly selfless act towards humanity. And there was, of course, the picture of him during the Blitz, "little demonic miracle of my own" he said and the miracle was in the fact that he had little to no reason to save those books, he came with the intention of helping the angel and perhaps of blowing up a church, but he remembered the books anyway, even in the turmoil of the bombing, even before Aziraphale could, seemingly knowing the angel better than the angel knew himself. 

He always meant to thank him for that. It was nice to put it out there, finally. 

'I see.' Mrs Device seemed to have ran out of questions. 

'Are you happy now?' Anathema snarled at her. 

'Almost.' Her mum reassured them. 'Just one last thing. If this is your wedding, as you claim, then which one of you is going to wear that?' 

And she pointed dramatically to the frilly white wedding dress that was hanging on the doorknob of Anathema's cupboard. 

There was no time to hesitate as that would have looked suspicious. 

'Me, of course.' Aziraphale offered to bite the bullet but he regretted it almost immediately. It was a dress designed for Anathema's lithe frame and the skinny demon could have pulled it of easily. But him? He would look like a ham hock in a netting in it. 

Anathema's mother was clearly thinking along the same lines as her eyes flashed with borderline evil satisfaction while she said: 

'Please may I see it on you?'

'Mother this is beyond insane.' Anathema cried with barely disguised panic.

'Why of course. ' Aziraphale offered with more confidence than he felt. 'If you can just step outside, so I could put it on?' 

He indicated the kitchen and Anathema's mother obliged with an air of superiority. 

'Aren't you coming?' She asked Crowley and Anathema as she crossed the threshold between the two rooms. 

'Oh, I'll need a lot if help with that pesky dress.' Aziraphale offered an explanation. 

'I bet you do.' Mrs Device mumbled as the angel closed the door on her. 

Both the demon and the angel immediately turned on Anathema, who burst out in a whispered scream. 

'Oh thank you ever so much!' 

'Anathema what the Hell is going on?' Crowley demanded with a hoarse whisper.

'Why did you invite your mother to your wedding if you didn't want her to know about it?' Aziraphale asked, dumbfounded. 

'That's the thing, I didn't invite her. She just showed up. It was supposed to be a secret.' 

'Pray tell us why!' Hissed Crowley.

'What was I supposed to do?' Anathema was literally tearing on her hair and she began to prance the length of the small living room. She was still whispering but the agitation in her voice was worthy of the most desperate cries. 'She hates Newt. She thinks he is a scoundrel. She never would have agreed to our marriage.' 

'Our Newt. The young Mr Pulsifer. A scoundrel? Why does she think that?' 

'I may have told her that it was his idea to burn the second book of prophecies.' Anathema stopped dead in her tracks as she admitted to this. 'She lived her life by that bloody book until now and I am sure she feels quite lost without its guidance, but honestly, that is a good enough reason to alienate her only daughter?' 

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from mentioning how terrifying it can be, leaving your previous belief system behind. Anathema was clearly too agitated to listen to someone rushing to her mother's defence.

'It probably doesn't help that Newt is the descendant of the family who's been trying to end my bloodline a few centuries back.' The young witch also admitted.

'Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery Pulsifer?' Asked Aziraphale, remembering the relevant pages vividly.

'Not that many people running around with this surname, turns out.'

'So one can say, that you are, in essence, in love with your hereditary enemy?' Crowley said, articulating each word, turning them over carefully like they were made of something fragile. 

'I mean, it's a bit of a melodramatic phrasing, but yes, that's the bottom line.' Anathema sighed and threw her hand in the air. 'Oh, it's no use. I have to cancel the wedding, haven't I? I've got no choice.'

'Now hold on just for a second.' Crowley raised his hand soothingly. 'I did not saunter down from Heaven and tempted your species for you to claim such little authority over your decisions. You always have a choice. It's not always easy or pleasant. But you always have one. And Aziraphale and I are going to help.' 

'We are?' The angel snapped his head up.

'Come on, Aziraphale. The girl is defying thousands of years of unfounded animosity. Who would understand the relevance of that if not us?' 

'Actually, it's been more like four, five hundred years. It's not quite that ancient a rivalry.' Intercepted the witch. 

'Got to help love prevail, angel. Two feuding families. I thought you loved this stuff.' 

'No, don't bring that play up. It really didn't end well for the young lovers, remember?' Aziraphale began to bite his cuticles.

'Come on, angel.' Repeated Crowley, tilting his head slightly sideways in a gesture that Anathema understood to be his way of pouting. 'It will be like the old times.' 

'I am willing to help.' The angel hurried to say, unsure if that was such a great thing. 'I just wish to know what the plan is.' 

'Well, it should be simple enough.' Mused Anathema. 'You could just… you know, snap your finger and make her change her mind.' 

A shocked gasp burst out the angel while Crowley's breath escaped him in the form of an agitated hiss.

'That was rather insensitive, Anathema.' Scolded her the angel. 

'Do you think that Hell would be messing around making the M25 if they could just turn your worldview upside down with a snap?' The demon threw his hands in the air. 

'Besides, it's absolutely against the rules, doing that to humans. For Heaven _ and _ Hell.' Pointed out the angel.

'But didn't you both say that you influenced many humans to do your evil bidding or to execute your divine plan?' Squealed Anathema.

'Yes and we did that by bribing and threatening.'

'By uplifting and inspiring.' 

'And we can lie and corrupt.'

'And explain and educate.'

'But there has to be an element of free will.' 

'We can never take choice away from humans.' 

'So you are suggesting that you are willing to do all of that?' 

'Of course.' Nodded the demon.

'But you won't use magic?'

'It's miracles.' Sniffed the angel. 'And God made it impossible for us to use our powers to deprive humans of their ability to formulate their own opinion.'

'I see.' Whispered Anathema, somewhat humbled. 

'Not like we would ever want to do that.' Added the demon. 

'Well, then maybe if we managed to convince her this isn't _ my _wedding, my mum will probably just pack up and leave and I can still get married afterwards.' Anathema took her glasses off and was toying with the temples as she formulated her plan. 

'Perfect. That's the kind of shenanigan we used to get up to with angel all the time.' 

'You are assuming that after having flown here all the way from America she would just want to go back without spending a few days with you?' Asked the angel in disbelief. 

'She's got a flight back in a few hours. She said herself.' Anathema pointed out, to which the angel responded with a disapproving huff.

'Well, I don't like the idea of you lying to her.' Aziraphale insisted.

'I have to.'

'No, young lady. What you have to do is tell her what is yet to happen.' An uncharacteristically sad frown appeared on the angel's face. His bubbly composure, full of nervous little ticks stiffened a great deal as he was literally steeling himself to resist the emotional duress. 'Lying would not be not fair on her, but more importantly, it would not be fair on poor Newt.' 

Anathema looked slightly guilty and caught out. She'd clearly forgotten about her fiance for a moment in all the excitement. Aziraphale's voice was strangled with melancholy as he continued. 'Trust me, mistreating him, not standing up for him, not siding with him when it really mattered will fill you with immense regret for years to come.'

'Angel… 'Crowley gently touched his shoulder and he spun on his heels to face the demon, spluttering, words he meant to say for so long about to tumble off his tongue, the demon's soft expression almost breaking him completely. But Crowley did not allow him to finish this train of thoughts. 'You must keep it down.' 

He realised he was almost speaking in a normal voice now and that merely a thin layer of wood divided him from Anathema's mother. He quickly nodded. 

'You don't understand. She came here to _ fight_. She bought two tickets. She's planning on taking me home for being disobedient.' The young witch continued, looking at a point in the ether slightly above the angel's shoulder, probably picturing her future with her mind's eyes. 'She thinks I spent enough time away from my family and that probably Newton is brainwashing me and she thinks that it doesn't do me well, being left to my own… devices.' 

Anathema finally stopped staring in thin air and looked Aziraphale dead in the eye.

'It's my wedding day. I can't have her being happy for me. I can't have it both ways. But I can't face breaking down my family today. Not yet. I just want to be happy for one day before this all blows in my face.' 

'I suppose you could just… go home then?' Wagered Crowley in a gentle voice he usually reserved only for the distressed angel.

'But I love Newton.' Pleaded Anathema like it was them she needed to convince. 'And I really don't want to be a mere descendant again.' 

The angel bit the inside of his cheek. 

'You understand that I'll have to alter the dress in order to put it on?' He offered reluctantly at the end. 

'So you'll do it?'

'We are beside you, whatever happens.'

'Oh, thank you.' Whispered Anathema, clearly close to tears and she stepped to the angel and threw her arms around him, pulling him in an embrace. Aziraphale patted her head, a jumble of conflicting emotions himself. 

'Sorry to be that person, but this is a suspiciously long time to put on a dress, however tight it is.' Coughed Crowley. 

'Right. Close your eyes, so I can get changed.' The angel instructed them, breaking the hug. 'Crowley, I know that your eyes are still open behind your glasses.' 

The demon tore his shades off, eyes screwed shut, flashing a mischievous smile. 

'Happy?'

He couldn't have been further away from that mental state, but this was no time to discuss it. He took off layer after layer, regretting wearing a coat, a jacket a waistcoat, a shirt, a bow tie _ and _a vest for the first time ever. He subtly miracled the dress slightly bigger and found that he was surprisingly contented with its overall modest style. He took out a few stitches here and there and added a few in other places; he obviously needed less space for his chest, but he felt he should elevate the waistline a little bit to flatter his rounder shape. He inspected his translucent reflection in the windowpane and decided that it would take another, much bigger miracle to make him feel completely comfortable with his looks.

'Can we open our eyes now?' Asked the ever impatient demon. 

'How do I look?' Inquired the angel, turning around. 

Anathema's expression was full of surprised glee. Aziraphale took that as a good sign. 

'Great!' Stuttered the witch. 

'Crowley?' Asked the angel, looking over to the demon. 

Crowley just stood there, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and full of something that the angel did not dare to contemplate. He couldn't help noticing the slight colour tinting the demon's cheeks. 

'Agh.' Answered Crowley. 

'Is it that ridiculous?' Agonised the angel, smoothing his hands against the silky, white fabric, hugging his frame. 'Maybe I should change my shape to something more feminine?' 

'No!' The demon cried out, suddenly startled.

'Then perhaps I should just turn it into a suit.' Aziraphale began to worry his hands, twisting and turning, trying to inspect himself from every angel. 

'That wouldn't be too consistent with our lies.' Anathema reminded him.

'Can't we just say that I changed my mind about the dress? It's my wedding after all!' Pouted the angel.

'Oh no, that would be fine. But you told my mother that you can't use miracles at the moment.' Pointed out the witch. 

'It's a nice dress.' Crowley finally spoke up in a croaky voice. 'It suits you.' 

A relieved smile lit up the angel's face and the demon hurried to turn his gaze away, putting his glasses promptly back on.

'You can send her in now.' Aziraphale instructed Anathema graciously.

'Wait.' Crowley made them pause. 'What if this is not enough to convince her?' 

'It has to be.' Insisted Anathema with grim determination, as if the fate of this whole heist only depended on her power of will.

'This should be fun.' Grinned the demon, as the witch stepped to the door, ready to open it.

'For you, perhaps.' Grumbled the angel. 'I hate this charade. I've always been a terrible liar.'

'The trick is to try and believe what you are saying.' Crowley slithered his arm around the angel's waist and pulled him closer, by his side. 'I know that you like me. Just crank that begrudging affection up a notch, _ husband _.' 

And with that he lightly patted Aziraphale's backside. 

'We are not married yet!' The angel reminded him primly, brushing off his groping hand.

'Emphasis on yet? That's the spirit.' Whispered Crowley, leaning to his ear as Anathema's mother walked in, planting a quick kiss on the angel's cheek before sidestepping him. The sensation left the angel week in the knees. Aziraphale wondered how is he going to survive the day if the demon was planning to get quite as affectionate as this. They were never really physical with each other before and the furthest Aziraphale had ever gone was holding Crowley's hand on their way back from Oxfordshire because he felt so overwhelmed with sadness that they'd have to die for averting the Apocalypse. So the sudden kiss left his heart racing and his skin prickling, burning like the demon's touch was Hellfire itself. It was obviously for the sake of the show, to convince Anathema's mother that they were pretty much in love, but it made the angel's blood boil nonetheless.

And it seemed fairly effective, as the way Mrs Device's smile thinned suggested that the angel did, in fact, looked nicer than he had any right to be and that the demon played the part of the smitten groom with great conviction.

'Lovely dress.' She only commented stiffly on the angel's appearance. 

'Thank you ever so much.' Responded Aziraphale with an affected air and next to him the demon mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a proud exclaim of the word "bastard". 

'All right, mum, I hope you had fun reenacting every soap opera villain ever, but I recall you mentioning that you had a flight from Heathrow later today so…' Anathema tried to usher her mom outside, but Mrs Device made her swallow her words with just one hand gesture that carried a heap of finality.

'I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to catch my plane after the ceremony.' She responded.

'You can't just invite yourself.' Anathema was doing a rather good impression of her equally embarrassed and flustered teenage self. She looked just as powerless in the face of her mother's stubborness as she was when she was just a child. 

'I can't see why I can't stay at a wedding _ my family _helped paying for.' Mrs Device glared at her, daring her daughter to contradict her decisive words.

The angel and the demon exchanged a quick glance while the Device ladies busied themselves with a staring contest. They mutely agreed that it was too late to turn back now and their only chance was to take the charade a step further and hope that Mrs Device will back off before they reach the altar. 

'We would be honored to have you.' Curtseyed Crowley, interrupting the wordless battle of wills the witches were locked in with a smile like a snarl. 

'I thought so.' Huffed Mrs Device, straightening her jacket. 

It was fairly obvious that the demon was about to say something unforgivable to such open rudeness, so Aziraphale reached out, just short of grabbing Crowley's arm. 

'You better go ahead, dear.' He said to the demon. 'You have to get ready yourself and I want you to check if everything is _alright_ _with the venue._'

He widened his eyes suggestively at Crowley. Over at the Manor there was a lot of incriminating evidence that could have unveiled their con; he needed Crowley to take care of that if Mrs Device was to stay. Newt was also there and he needed to be informed about the change of plans and preferably the other guests too.

'Why don't we all go ahead?' Wondered Mrs Device. 

'So you, Anathema and I can finish… finish…'

Aziraphale was left desperately groping for an excuse. Finish what? Their tea? The Sunday Times crossword puzzle? The angel raked his brain for information on just what comes with a full bridal regalia. Hair and makeup, the words popped in his mind. Now while he was lenient with well tailored clothes and barbers, he considered foundation, mascara and the works too frivolous to be truly good, so he settled for the former one.

'My hair.' He blurted triumphantly. Then realised, yet again, the feeble nature of his lie; while Crowley enjoyed growing his hair out, he had the same short nest of messy curls for over six thousand years now, precisely because it required precious little styling.

'Your hair.' Repeated Mrs Device flatly, obviously dubious.

'That's right.' Anathema came to his rescue, probably catching on why the angel tried stalling. She disappeared in the bedroom and returned with two fistfuls of bobby pins decorated with small white pearls. They were tiny. They looked like something that would be painfully difficult to embed in the angel's short hair. They were a legion. They were perfect. 

'Come on, mom. I need all the help I can get with this.' 

Anathema's mother wasn't a fool. They could tell from the way she allowed her gaze pass between Crowley and Aziraphale that she saw through them with ease and was now merely contemplating which one of them she should be more suspicious of. Which one of them required constant monitoring. By sheer dumb luck she settled on the angel; or perhaps because he took charge of more than one situation during their short acquaintance.

'I'll make a hot drink.' She announced, taking her jacket off, as I sign of saying that she intended to stay in the cottage to keep Aziraphale under surveillance while simultaneously rejecting getting involved.

'A tea would be nice.' Sighed the angel who needed something to sooth his frail nerves after the tense moment. 

He didn't see the dirty look the woman threw at him, the one that conveyed the words "I'm not your servant" without having to speak them, because Anathema was already busy taming his hair.

Crowley did, however and made sure to turn all coffee in the house decaffeinated on his way out. He desperately hoped that Anathema's mother was a coffee drinker.

Anathema's mother shortly returned with a tray full of drinks and placed a cup on the coffee table, right by the angel who's been positioned on the sofa and had Anathema attending to his hair. The witch made little to no progress until now. That was her intention. 

'I imagine that you probably understand that this open act of defiance will make it impossible for you to reconcile with your side.' Mrs Device was addressing Aziraphale but she was clearly talking to Anathema. 

'Oh, absolutely.' Aziraphale reassured her cheerfully, reaching for his cup with slow moves as to not to ruin what Anathema achieved so far.

'Life will only get harder for you.' Mrs Device warned. 'There will be no miracles. There will only be the… how did you call it before? The mundane way. No help from Heaven.' 

Anathema's mother stopped even pretending to have a conversation with the angel and was openly talking to Anathema's back now. Aziraphale glanced up and saw with aching heart how the young woman's expression stiffened.

'I am aware, my dear lady.' The angel was cradling his cup, thinking hard and searching for something reassuring to say. 

'You will be terribly alone, having turned your back on your kind. 'There will be nothing special about you anymore.' 

'I will have Crowley.' The angel pointed out. 'And truth to be told, I did not feel particularly special even when I had all Heaven's angels on my side. They cared very little about who I am. The only thing they ever cared about was my mission.'

He was also talking to Anathema this time, trying to pour as much encouragement in his words as he could.

'But how do you imagine someone whose purpose is to be your enemy will be able to love you? He doesn't know you the way your kind does. Heaven raised you and made you who you are today!' The thread of conversation was quickly escaping Mrs Device as she got more and more agitated. The angel could barely resist pointing out that he wasn't raised, much less born; he was created. He could only managed keeping it to himself by reminding himself that while this was a conversation pointed at him, it wasn't about him. He was a mere conveyor, in Mrs Device's eyes, of what Anathema thought about marrying Newt. And the angel treated the conversation as such, but funnily enough, nothing he'd said so far was untrue. Yes, he may have chosen Crowley over his own kind, the angel's who were supposed to be the same make as him, whom he was supposed to resemble. Yet the demon was the only one who actually knew him; what music he liked, what restaurants he preferred, how much he cared about his books, his material objects. Goodness, on the day he opened his bookshop it was the demon who turned up with a celebratory gift of chocolate and it was Heaven that tried to wrestle his treasured possession out of his hands and drag him back upstairs. It was Crowley who saved his books from the bombing and Heaven that made him inadvertently burn them all. So he used his own example to raise Anathema's spirits, secretly hoping that the witch will gradually gather the courage to confess.

'Well, you postulate a lot about Crowley and me, but even if he didn't know the person Heaven made me today, it was only him who ever expressed an interest in the person I can make of myself.' He retorted and took a great deal of pleasure in the way Mrs Device's eyes angrily flashed. Somewhere above his head Anathema sniffed, sounding congested and she stealthily wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

'Done.' She announced. They were able to stall for about twenty minutes. With the demon's reckless driving it must have taken him about five to reach the Manor, where the wedding was to take place, but that still gave him precious little time to smooth the rough edges of this improvised plan. 'Would you like to see it? There's a full length mirror in the bedroom.' 

'Yes.' The angel latched on to the idea, hoping to give some more time for the demon. But also, secretly, he was hoping the elicit the same awe filled reaction from him with his appearance as before. It was probably very un-angelic of him, enjoying being worshipped like this. Oh, the kind of things the demon tempted him to do! 

He walked into the modest bedroom and saw the mirror straight away. He was supposed to slow things down, so he planned to take his time contemplating his looks. His earthly corporation was a purpose built thing, a functional entity with no regards for attractiveness. This was a fact that certain angels, like Gabriel, would never allow him to forget. Crowley, however, seemed fond of this particular incarnation and went into a great deal of trouble to keep it intact. And he did look a bit more special, dressed up and decorated in such a thoughtful manner; even if this attire was not chosen with him in mind. 

He wasn't allowed an awful long to bask in the glory of his wedding outfit because Mrs Device followed him to the bedroom. She stood, leaning on the doorframe, radiating animosity. 

'Are you sure that you are ready to face the retributions for consorting with a demon?' She asked yet again. 'Because I am not backing down until I sabotaged my daughter's wedding, so you will probably end up actually marrying the demon as part of this crazy scheme.'

'My dear lady,' Aziraphale addressed her by talking to her reflection. 'you worry an awful lot about my salvation considering that you claim to only want to ruin Anathema's nonexistent wedding.' 

'I am merely trying to make you understand the risk you are taking.'

'I am aware of the risks. I have faced the retributions. I am in exile and I've never been happier.' Spat Aziraphale. This was yet another curious truth; they've been out for meals and walks almost every day since the rest of their lives have begun and there was nothing clandestine about it this time. And if he thought that there was nothing better than seeing Crowley everyday apropos of Warlock and the Apocalypse, well he couldn't even begin to imagine the joy of seeing Crowley apropos of nothing other than wishing to see him. And this time round he was able to sit next to him on the bus and eat with him in places other than the Ritz and the British Museum and brush his hand against the demon's without having to worry about the consequences. 'If all the angels in Heaven, all the demons in Hell and God herself could not change my mind about this, than what makes you think that you will be able to make a difference?'

'It's not me you've got to worry about.' Mrs Device shook her head.' It's just that while you may not exactly be in Heaven's good books at the moment, you are still, despite everything, an angel. Aren't you? But I do wonder if this will change if you were to marry a demon. Do you think that they'll finally make you Fall for that? Will this be the straw that breaks the camel's back?' 

'Making me Fall, you say? Oh, I want to see them try.' Whispered the angel, seething. He was sick and tired of threats and worries and honestly, he was at the point where he wished he would have Fallen by now, just to be over with it already. 

'How can you be so self assured?' Mrs Device shook her head, sounding almost sad for the angel. 'You are about to tie the knot with a damned on a dare.'

'He could be an angel, a demon or an aardvark for all I care.'

'But he is evil!' 

'No he is not. He's good. He is much nicer than he lets on.' 

'What makes you think that?' 

'I known him since Adam. I know him much better than you do. But for you, the fact that he saved the world should be enough proof.' He scoffed. 

'Oh my God.' Suddenly Mrs Device pulled herself upright, like a jolt of electricity ran through her. 'You _ actually _love him, don't you?'

'That's what I've been telling you all along.' 

"Of course but that was for show. But this. This is real, isn't it?' 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, but quickly clamped it shut. Oh, it was a good trick, pretending to have figured him out. He wholeheartedly wanted to confess now, with every fiber of his body. He yearned pour his heart about how hopeless it was, his love for the demon that surely must have been one sided by now, after having distanced himself for so long. 

'Why are you so desperate to have Anathema lying to you?' He changed the subject instead. 'It's almost as if you wish she was dishonest.'

'I just want to know the truth.' Mrs Device retorted. I am not used to my daughter having secrets from me. I'm not used to her lying.' 

'Of course.' Aziraphale sighed, not unkindly. 'You are used to having her whole life laid out in front of you, used to being able to literally read her future.'

Oh, heavens he felt such kinship with this poor woman, despite resenting her attitude. It was a terrifying feeling, being deprived of the concept of a knowable universe. He too used to have a presence in his life that he believed was looking after him at every step as long as he was following Her instructions. For the Device family, that presence was Agnes Nutter. For him it was God and he could still feel the chill of terror in his bones when he remembered that She probably wasn't watching anymore. Or even if She did, that presence was voided by the fact that She clearly didn't want to get involved. 

'Well, there are new things you have to get used to.' Shrugged the angel, not in a dismissive, just a matter of a factly way. 'You have to start having a conversation with her, instead of talking at her. You have to try to put yourself in her shoes and accept her views instead of just telling her that what you've said is going to happen because it's been prophesied. You have to accept the fact that you've raised a clever and competent woman and that she will think for herself because there is no other way of doing things from here on out.'

Yes, a whole lot has changed since they've saved the world. He was eternally grateful for Crowley, for him waiting at the bottom of this rabbit hole he'd fallen down after the averted Apocalypse. He was living proof that everything can still be fine. 

Suddenly, he felt desperate to see the demon. When this day is over, he promised to himself, he will thank Crowley for saving him again by being at his side. He will never be discontent with what they've got, he promised to himself. Even if it's just dining at Ritz and picnics at the park, even if it's just amicable companionship, he'll be satisfied. It was something he could hold on to. Less fortunate souls, he thought looking at Mrs Device, don't even have that luxury. 

'Don't try to tell me how to raise my daughter.' The witch looked almost childishly angry.

'I wouldn't dream of such a thing.' Said Aziraphale, turning around and gathering the layers of his skirt in his hand. 'I merely want to marry my fiance, so if you'll excuse me.'

And he walked past her without looking back_._


	2. A lawful and a chaotic impediment

Over at the Tadfield Manor Conference and Training Center a certain demon was counting his blessings too. It was a huge help that Anathema wasn't too religious and decided to have her wedding at place other than a church. Of course Crowley was keen to help, but he was grateful for not having scorch his feet on consecrated ground in order to do that. He was also grateful for only having to endure a civil ceremony. He really didn't want to involve a priest and God in any of this. 

He was glad for the modest size of the wedding too. Anathema only booked one room - it was to be the place for the ceremony and the following reception too. Changing the decor wasn't going to be a huge ordeal like this. 

With a click of his fingers, he altered the poster outside the room that informed the crowds mingling in the busy Manor that a wedding was to take place in there, so that they won't march in wearing full paintball gear. He was good with posters, he made a whole bunch of them for the hellish offices too. And that was pretty much all it took. The table they laid for the meal was fine as it was, though he had to change the cake topper into two little grooms. After some thought he changed the cake too, turning the three tier delicacy into individual angel food cakes, laid out on three layers, because this was rapidly becoming their wedding and it was about time they started to treat it as such, so why not have the angel's favorite kind of cake? Also, he decided to add some germaniums to the ivy that covered the wedding arch. It was a type called angel's eyes. Because of the word play, you see. Not because he was smitten with a certain angel, no. 

He clutched his abdomen subtly - he felt as if his stomach was in a knot. Human anatomy still freaked him out sometimes, even six thousand years in. He never knew his guts could do this. Though he'd never been so nervous before. 

It's just that the temptation was so huge. There lay a whole day ahead of him when he wasn't just allowed to be affectionate with the angel, he was expected to do so. The wedding gave him such a wonderful plausible deniability. An he knew himself well enough to realise that he was going to make the most of it - given that the angel was comfortable with playing along too.

The problem wasn't the ceremony itself. The problem was with the aftermath, with having to return to that much harsher world that lacked the beautiful experience of being able to touch and hold the angel whenever he liked. 

Really, it shouldn't have mattered much. They were transcendent beings and the tactile aspects of their vessels were much like leather seats in a company car - a nice added bonus, sure, but nonessential, since you didn't _ own _ the vehicles. 

But of course that has also changed since the Apocalypse. Or since the lack of it. They were now locked in their current shapes, as obtaining a new body would have been a far more difficult affair than just filling out some paperwork. Losing their bodies would have meant landing in Head Offices and that was highly inadvisable. So if he was to say, _ kiss _ the angel today (and that was part of a wedding, right?) he would be kissing his truest current form and what a lucky coincidence that was, as this happened to be Crowley's favourite form. That's why he went into such lengths to preserve it. And he was never, ever going to admit it to anyone, but it was the smile that did it for him, the special one the angel reserved for him alone. This was such a mortifying thing to feel, that he was going keep it forever to himself, because lest he revealed it, it would destroy his well crafted image of a suave, heartless demon. He didn't let the fact that the role of hell's most detached agent was becoming more of an _ act _ to him than a second nature, with each passing, year bother him that much. Not usually. But in this particular instance maintaining appearances was part of the taxing task of maintaining balance. Of liking the angel well enough so that he understands, but not so much that he would end up going to too far, too soon. _ Too fast _ one could say.

And this wedding was one right old mindfield of letting on too much, of letting the act slip and of allowing the true depth of his commitment show because this is what bloody weddings were supposed to be about. Hell, he may have already said too much when he admitted to have fallen for Aziraphale a good six thousand years ago. The angel must have seen the relevance of that confession. After all, he never once lied to him throughout their acquaintanceship. Who knows, he might be freaking out already over there at Anathema's cottage. Aziraphale seemed to struggle a lot with the concept of being liked, as if he considered love to be something reserved only for the Almighty. It took long years of spoiling him subtly to reach a point where he wouldn't have a meltdown over being offered some niceness. By the elizabethan times they reached a point where the angel would be happy to accept favours as long as he didn't explicitly have to ask for them and that was the level where they've been stagnating ever since. It made courting difficult, borderline dangerous, as he was still convinced that the incident in Paris wasn't an honest mistake but a desperate attempt on the angel's behalf to lure Crowley out from his lair to spend time with him, without having to name it as such. It was an attempt that nearly discorporated him, for Heaven's… well somebody's sake. And he'll have ample opportunity to jeopardise the hard earned trust between them today lest he is able to practice some self restraint - given that demon's were even capable of that. _ Great, pustulent mangled bollocks _, Crowley thought, as he absent mindedly nibbled on a slice of angel's food to calm is stomach, while he instantly miracled a new one in its place. Loving the angel was truly a feast of having his cake and eating it too. 

It was time for him to find the groom so he slid out of the room, only to bump right into Anathema and her mom. Crowley swore under his breath. They were here already?

'Hi, Crowley, is Newt in there?' Asked Anathema, voice nervous and jittery as she gestured at the room. 'I thought that today would be a good day for my mom to meet him so they can have a chance to get to know each other.'

'Better late than never I guess.' Mumbled Crowley pointedly so only the witch could hear. Out loud he said. 'No, but you go take a seat. I'll find him for you.'

'Shouldn't you be getting ready?' Anathema's mother implied his decidedly unceremonious attire of jeans and a tee. 

'It's fine.' He shrugged, walking off already because he knew from first hand experience that there was no better way to deal with unwanted questions than straight up abandoning the questioning party.

He was quickly running out of time and blessed and cursed the Wasabi at once because the motorified sardine can must have been the reason why Newt was delayed. That gave him enough time to beat the Devices to the groom, but now it was getting to the point where he was becoming too late to warn the unsuspecting witchfinder private that he was about to encounter the first truly dangerous witch of his short career. 

But by some lucky coincidence he ran right into the very flustered Newt as he was rushing through the length of the former cloister.

'Crowley!' The poor boy greeted him from afar. 'Has it started yet? The Wasabi….'

He didn't give him a chance to finish. Instead he dragged him into a nearby broom cupboard, just big enough for them to stand nose to nose, because he had a hunch that Anathema's mother would ignore the orders to stay put, especially given that they were coming from, what she suspected to be, a decoy groom. Jokes on her, though. Secret meetings were Crowley's specialty. 

'News flash, soldier boy. You are not getting married. I am.'

'You are getting married to Anathema?' Asked the young Pulsifer, downcast but strangely accepting like he long suspected that something like this might happen. 

'Nooooooo.' Crowley would have clapped his hand to his forehead, but there was no space. 'I'm getting married to Aziraphale. By the way, I need your clothes.' 

'But… why?' Asked Newt, more confused than he was before the demon's "explanation". 'It's not fair. You had thousands of years to marry Aziraphale. Today is our big day.'

'Well, I hate to break it down to you, but Anathema's mother is here and she despises your guts. We are making it look like it was going to be my wedding in the first place, so she sods off and you can still tie the knot with your bethrotted after.' 

'What? Really? But why can't we just tell her the truth?' 

'Because Anathema said so.'

'But…'

Crowley grabbed Newt's collar and pushed him among the brooms angrily, narrowing whatever little space was left between them.

'Now listen here, you nincompoop. Is Anathema the best thing that ever happened to you in your miserable excuse for a life?'

'Yes, b…'

'And what do you have to show for it? What sacrifices did you make exactly to deserve her? This girl crossed the Atlantic ocean for you. She is defying all the expectations of her kin and she is abandoning the only way of living she'd ever known to be with you. And you? You moved out of your mom's place and frankly, that's doing you more good than harm. What else? You gave up seeing your assholeish colleauges on a daily basis and that is pretty much it. So here's your chance to show what you are made of, to show that you mean it. So if Anathema asks you to play along, you won't just play along, you'll thank her for the opportunity. _ Capisci?' _

Newt swallowed audibly.

'Yes.' He quipped.

'Bloody marvellous.' Growled the demon. 'Now start undressing.' 

In that precise moment, the door of the cupboard flung open.

'Sorry,' Said Mary Hodges, formerly known as Sister Mary Loquacious, failed satanic nun and successful business woman with impeccable politeness. 'to break up an intimate moment, gentlemen, but…'

Crowley made her freeze with a click of his finger. Then he shut the door and spent five rather awkward minutes swapping clothes with Newt in the confined space. They stepped out in the light looking still uncomfortable. Newt squirmed in his tighter-than-usual new jeans, while Crowley pulled a face when he inspected the suit in the daylight.

'Where did you get this from?' He said, pinching the material like it was something disgusting. 

'My dad wore it on his wedding day.' Admitted the young Pulsifer.

'It shows.' Commented the demon and he tailored it to look more stylish with a swift sweep of his arms. Then he rolled his eyes at Newt who stood there, slack jawed. 

'Don't worry. I'll change it back after.'

He turned to Mary Hodges and made her come to her senses.

'Miss Hodges.' He said with what he imagined to be his most approachable smile. 'About the wedding you agreed to host here today?' 

'Yes?' Frowned Mary, feeling that she knew this man, this smile, but was unable to place him. She didn't have the best memory for faces; though she had a knack for remembering children's names and appearances. 

'There is a slight change of plans.' 

Crowley briefly explained everything to her, then oiled the rusting cogs of bureaucracy with the help of some cash he pulled literally out of thin air as to ensure that she promptly forgot about the previous arrangements and treated the current one as the one and only matrimony that was ever to take place at Tadfield Manor. So they only had the last task of informing the guests left.

That proved to be less of a hassle than they thought it would be. The small congregation of friends and relatives was standing by the door of the room, engaged in a conversation. They already knew that something was up and were shocked to their core to learn that there wasn't going to be a Pulsifer-Device union taking place today. And to be informed by a poster, designed with Comic Sans, no less!

'Newt, sweety, what is going on?' Asked the young private's mother hurrying to meet them as they walked up to the room. 

'Mom, everything is fine!' Newton pulled her aside to explain so now it was Crowley's sole responsibility to inform the rest of the group. 

'Is it true?' Madam Tracey stepped up to him, lips trembling, voice strangled. 'Are you really marrying Mr Aziraphale?'

Crowley did not know what transpired exactly after he and Aziraphale left the Tadfield airbase to hijack the Oxford bus and turn it Londonwards, but Madam Tracey and Anathema were quite close ever since. The old medium even planned to buy a small cottage in Lower Tadfield with her savings. It seemed that Anathema's presence and the perfect weather were huge selling points. He knew this because the angel kept in touch with Tracey, but also because Shadwell explained it to him as a justification for asking for an increase in his army pay. 

'Yes and I know you might be disappointed, but Aziraphale and I simply couldn't wait a moment longer…'

'Disappointed?' Squeaked the woman as she retrieved a handkerchief from her purse and blew her nose noisily. 'I was worried that I'll _ die _ before you get there.'

'Wait… what?' Spluttered the demon. 

'You've been messing around for so long, I feared that I will literally pass away before you finally get together. To be able to attend your wedding is simply…'

And she broke down in sobs and had to be careened aside by a very confused Shadwell. Crowley suddenly felt that the collar of his white shirt was a tad too tight. He turned to the other guests.

'I would be rather grateful if you all pretended that you originally arrived to this wedding and not to Anathema's.' He announced in a stage whisper.

'Why?' The Them whispered back at him. 

Anathema invited the children too and it was Deidre and Arthur Young's honor to supervise them throughout the day, because Pepper's mom objected to traditional marriage and Brian's mom simply couldn't skip laundry day. (Wensley was only allowed to attend under the strict instructions that he won't touch the cake.) 

'It's a game.' Improvised Crowley. 'To make it more interesting.'

Games. The Them nodded. They understood that. 

'Now, are there any questions?' 

'Shall we go home?' Inquired Arthur Young. The Youngs were sort of, kind of okay with attending their semi neighbours' wedding, but felt rather awkward about suddenly becoming part of the matrimony of these strangers.

'You are welcome to stay. Adam, you don't need to raise your hand.'

'Do I still get to be page boy?' 

'Sure, course, why not. Pepper?'

'Do I still have to be flower girl?' 

'Pepper!' Deidre cried.

'Not if you don't want to.' Shrugged Crowley and Pepper punched the air triumphantly. 

Just then, Miss Hodges returned, guiding a flustered looking young woman.

'Mr Crowley, the registrar is here.'

'Good afternoon.' Greeted them the lady absentmindedly as she leafed through her briefcase. She had the most harrowing workday. This wasn't a coincidence. 'Forgive me for appearing to be so unprepared, but which ceremony is this one exactly?' 

'It's for A. J. Crowley and A. Z. Fell. I'm sure you have the paperwork.' Crowley hurried to say and soon as he said it, the papers did indeed appear in the briefcase.

'Ah, here we go.' Cried the relieved registrar. 'I am ashamed to admit that I don't remember talking to you guys at all.'

'It's fine.' Crowley waved dismissively. 'It's wedding season after all. You must be extremely busy.'

'Oh, I am.' Sighed registrar as this was true as of this very morning. 'Shall we begin then?' 

'I'll inform the other groom.' Offered Mary Hodges and she hurried away. 

They all filed in the room, joining the Devices who sat there with surprising patience and obediece and took up their positions. Newt stood beside Crowley under the wedding arch, assuming the role of the best man and the witness that was originally going to be Crowley's part. He whispered at the demon.

'I believe you said that if we managed to convince Mrs Device she'll just bugger off, but it looks to me that she is planning to stay.'

This was rather true and there wasn't anything left to do to convince her. The guests all acted natural, the registrar didn't blink an eye when Crowley parked by her table, she'd seen Aziraphale in a wedding dress and Crowley in a tuxedo, yet she continued to sit among the others, smiling like a sphinx, appearing all expectant.

'I don't know what to tell you, kid. Remember, we can't call this bluff off, unless book girl says so.' Whispered back the demon. If he were a mortal, he would have been sweating profoundly by now and he lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Anathema, as she stepped under the arch herself to fill in as Aziraphale's witness. She subtly shrugged at the demon, then sought Newt's gaze and Crowley was pleased to see that the young man offered a weak, but encouraging smile to her, full of forgiveness. 

But before he could congratulate Newt for being so gracious the bridal march began to play and for a brief moment he considered bolting through the window."_ We are actually doing this." _ He thought equally thrilled and terrified and "_This is crazy." _ it flashed through him after. But the doors opened and he spotted the angel and suddenly everything just clicked into place.

He hadn't felt like this since the early days of creation, when he was busy hanging constellations on the fabric of the universe and giving a spin to galaxies to set them in motion. It was a feeling of conviction that everything was going to be the way it was meant to be. He didn't experience such divine serenity since he'd fallen and regretted bitterly to be the reason why the angel lost this sensation. He vowed, not for the first time, to make up for it, even if it took him another six thousand years. He allowed himself to beam happily at the angel as he slowly walked the length of the room, partly because it was his face that the crowd could see and mainly because he felt like he might burst with joy.

Aziraphale also smiled at him, but he clearly had other things on his mind as well, because he gestured subtly at Mrs Device with his head as he stood in front of the registrar. Crowley softly shrugged, which made the angel frown.

'Crowley?' he whispered leaning slightly nearer. 

'Yes?' Asked the demon gently, fully expecting the angel to want to back off.

'Is that a _ tartan collar_?

The demon turned his head away, feeling self conscious all of a sudden. 

'Oh, shut up.' He mumbled, sensing, rather than seeing the angel's smug smile.

The registrar began.

'Dear ladies and gentlemen, friends and family. This place in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned, according to law, for the celebration of marriages. You are here today to witness the joining in matrimony of Anthony J Crowley and…' The registrar frowned, but continued smoothly as she was too professional to draw attention to a weird name. 'Aziraphale Z Fell. If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, he or she should declare it now.' 

There was a moment of silence that usually, ten out of nine times, remained just that before the registrar continued. But today, just as she drew a breath to begin the next part, the registrar was interrupted by the strangled cry of Anathema.

'I do. They can't get married today, because this wedding should have been mine. It would have been if it wasn't for you.'

She spun around, pointing at her mother.

'I hope you are happy.' She whispered, face covered in hot tears of embarrassment and she made a run for it, leaving the baffled congregation behind.

'Oh heavens.' Cried Aziraphale, then he thrusted his small bouquet of flowers in Crowley's hand. 'I'll go and find her.'

'Wait!' Newt cried after him, a notch too late as the angel was already on his way out. 'I should, she's my fiance.'

'That's all right.' Crowley passed the bouquet to Newt in turn. 'I'll go and get them.'

'I'll come too!' Intercepted the private much faster this time.

'I need you here to keep an eye on her mom.' Whispered the demon, then he went skipping after the other two.

Newt risked a look at Anathema's fuming mother.

'Where's the bell, the book and the pin when you need them?' He whispered before he forced himself to step to Mrs Device to finally meet her. 

Meanwhile the angel burst out to the great hall. Anathema was simply much faster than him, given that she wore a simple dress, while Aziraphale was clad in multiple layers of skirts. But this fact did not deter the angel, who hurried after the witch, rushing across the length of the Training centre. Heads turned curiously after him, business types on team building leaned together to gossip about the runaway bride, but he didn't care. Soon enough, he confirmed that Anathema left the building, so he followed suit and exited the Manor, stepping to the generously sized playing field. For the first few hundred meters he held on to his skirts, but that soon became unmanageable, so he simply let the dress trail in the grass and mud and sincerely hoped that Crowley can undo the damage later. Paintballs were flying around him, but miraculously avoided shooting him. Several people lost the game however, because they've left their hiding places to gauge at the angel in the white dress openly.

'Anathema!' The angel began to call out, because there was simply too much ground go cover around him. He allowed his instincts to lead him as by nature he usually found himself attracted to places with troubled souls; though the conflicting emotions of the corporate soldiers generated a bit of a background haze that was hard to ignore. However, it was his job to be sensitive, so he focused on what Anathema might feel; he was all too familiar with the debilitating contradiction of the widely differing desires to keep at peace with his kind, but be allowed to love whoever he wants. Or just be allowed to love in any other way than the general reverence for God's creatures. It was a unique blend of inner turmoil that stood out in the pretend warzone so he was able to track Anathema to the edge of the land that belonged to the Manor. 

The eastern end of the estate was bordered by the Tadfield River. It started out as a tame little brook in Upper Tadfield, but absorbed a whole bunch of other streams on the way so by the time it passed the Manor it was a strong, gushing channel filled with frothing clay brown water. Aziraphale paused by the shore and stared down in the riverbed with a sense of increasing terror; he lost the trail of the disturbed young woman by this turbulent water and he read enough Shakespeare in his lifetime to know that this was not a setup for a happy ending. Thankfully, he soon heard Anathema's voice coming from the other shore: 

'Over here, Aziraphale.' 

Further upstream the weather and the land erosion brought a strong oak down and its trunk constituted a bridge between the two riversides - or it would have, if bridges were meant to be unstable, dangerous and difficult to cross. However, it was clear that Anathema used it as means of reaching the opposite shore and she was now sitting by its naked roots, hugging her knees and crying.

'Oh thank God.' Huffed Aziraphale and walked up to where Anathema was so they could be level with each other. He shouted across the water. 'Are you alright, my dear?' 

'No, I'm not.' Responded the angry witch. 'I've never been so humiliated in my life. I managed to hurt everyone I love and I even dragged you in this mess.' 

'I'm coming over, so we can talk things out.' Declared the concerned angel. 

'What's there to say? I should just call off the wedding and fly home with my mother where I can be supervised. I wanted to have agency and look at the choices I've made.'

'So you've made the wrong decision.' Shrugged the angel. He stepped to the tree trunk, straddled it sideways and began to shuffle along its length. 

'What are you doing?' Cried out Anathema. 

'I said I'm coming over.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Aziraphale. It's far too dangerous for you in that bulky dress.'

But the angel ignored her and continued to hop along the tree trunk. 

'Making mistakes is a symptom and a result of free will.' Sermonised Aziraphale. 'But the good news is that mistakes can be corrected. I mean you saw the end of the of the world personally, so you can probably tell that this little conflict is nothing compared to that.' 

He was halfway through now and the witch was only half listening to him, because she was so scared and mesmerised. 

'And I think,' continued the angel, unphased by his unresponsive audience. 'I might just have a genuine solution to your problems. Though I must warn you, it would involve talking to your mother.' 

'So you think you can change her mind?' Scoffed Anathema in disbelief. 

'I am almost certain. You see, I had a bit of time to think while I was waiting for the ceremony to begin, then a bit more while I was chasing you down and I believe I found a way to consolidate your mother's hatred towards Newton.' 

The angel stopped for a moment for effect.

'I believe this is,' he continued his rant. 'what we should have done to begin with. Pause and think, before rushing to action, otherwise…'

'Yes, but _ how _are you planning to convince my mom?!' Cried the exasperated witch.

'Well, the way I see it, your mother's animosity has two layers. Firstly, she hates Newton, because he is a Pulsifer, a descendant of the man who tried to kill Agnes Nutter all those years ago. This is, by far, the easiest problem to deal with. You simply have to explain to your mother that marrying Newt is the perfect revenge for Adultery Pulsifer's crimes.'

'Are you suggesting that it's a punishment to be wedded to me?'

'No. But think about it. We are at the end of the line of the English witch hunters. Now that Shadwell is semi retired Newton is the only remaining witch hunter in the whole of Britain.' Aziraphale was fairly sure of this, after he had learned that witch hunters Smith, Smith, Smith, Cupboard and Milkbottle were all fragments of Shadwell's imagination. 'And what was the first thing this madman of a private decided to do? He chose to fall in love with you. Can you see the importance of that? He didn't simply retire. He did not merely suggest that people should stop hunting witches. He is doing far more than that. He is appropriating witches by straight up marrying one.'

'I think my mother would still consider that a reward, rather than revenge.' Commented Anathema. 

'Yes, but this way Adultery Pulsifer's bloodline will end by pooling into Agnes Nutter's. Every single descendant of the most ruthless witch hunter of England from here on out will be born into a family of witches. Isn't there a poetic justice in that? Because I think that Mr Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery Pulsifer got rather busy turning in his grave upon hearing about your union. And I also think that your great-great-great-great grandma is smiling down on you from Heaven.' _ Or up from Hell. _ Aziraphale added in his head. She was a mass murderer, after all.

'That…' stuttered Anathema. 'is food for thought.' 

'Right?' Aziraphale puffed his chest out happily.

'But that doesn't change the fact that my mom knows how Newton encouraged me to burn the second book of prophecies.' Sighed Anathema, sounding depressed again.

'Well, that's a trickier conundrum, but consider something. Agnes predicted everything down to the tiniest detail, including things like the types of stocks worth investing in or the make of Newton's car, correct? Than why did she not expect you to burn the second book upon receiving it? That's a pretty significant thing to overlook.'

'Maybe she made a mistake.' Suggested Anathema.

'Her prophecies were a hundred percent true. Every single one of them became reality exactly in the way she predicted they would. So why did she look into the future beyond the Apocalypse, write a book about it and then send it to her only descendant who was going to burn it? I'm sure your mother would have given an arm for that book.' Well, _ somebody's _ arm, Aziraphale added in his head. 'She would have taken good care of it. But the book came to you instead, to the rebel who was going to destroy it all along. Why?'

'Did she… want me to destroy it?' Wagered the witch.

'I should think so.' Nodded the angel reverently.

'But why? What possible reason could my great-great grandma have to provide me with a book she always intended for me to burn?'

'Well, that is just my guess, but I think it was her way of saying that she approves of your intention of wanting to become your own person. Your family had been following her word religiously. Then she looked at what happened after the Apocalypse, saw that her descendant decided to stop being just a descendant and she found that she rather liked the idea. She wanted to give you a symbolic way of tearing off your shackles.' 

'She could have just wrote me to explain.'

'You were never going to read another word she wrote. That was the whole point.'

'Well, if she approved then she could have written to my mother to prevent her from getting so bleeding angry with me.'

'Ah, yes, about the secrecy. I think there is also a reason for why she had not warned the rest of your family about this.' 

'Oh, yes? Tell me, why did she let me make a fool of myself in front if all my loved ones?' Spluttered Anathema angrily.

'I think she is trying to teach you a lesson.'

'That is a pretty sadistic way to teach a lesson!' 

'What can I say? You grandma was a pretty sadistic witch!' Aziraphale got tired of dancing around the fact that Agnes blew up an entire village and he threw his hands in the air in a gesture of exasperation. 

That was a mistake. It made him lose his balance and fall into the river below.

He sunk to the bottom, gracelessly like a duck Crowley chose to torpedo. He wasn't a bad swimmer, but found that the layers of soaked dress were heavy and pulled him quickly down. He waited until his feet touched the riverbed, than kicked himself towards the surface. He never reached it, though. The massive dress got caught on something under the water and kept Aziraphale from being able to swim to the top. He tried to tear it free, but the fast river was too full if debris, so he couldn't see what he was doing. He tried to wiggle his way out of the dress too, but the myriads of buttons and clasps prevented him from leaving it behind. Foolishly with all the pointless flailing he burned up his oxygen and he started to black out, so he had no time left for a miracle.

The last thing he felt was annoyance. He survived floods of continental proportion, countless wars and plagues and the literal Apocalypse, for what? To drown in a puddle after all? God really did have a sick sense of humor, he thought at the end. 

And only She seemed to get the punchline.


	3. Epilogue - Speak up now

He came to, coughing up water, staring into a pair of huge, worried, yellow eyes.

'What the Hell, angel?' 

Crowley was close, much closer than ever, except for the one time he pushed Aziraphale into a wall in this very Manor. He was leaning over the angel who was splayed out on the ground, soaked to the bone, dress in a dirty bundle just above his mid thigh.

'Don't look at my legs.' He begged Crowley.

Naturally, that made the demon look down. Crowley just rolled his eyes. Public indecency was the last of his worries, but he pulled the angel up so he could make himself acceptable. 

Aziraphale sorted the dress out, then looked around to find out if Anathema was alright. The witch stood nearby, dress wet up to her waist. She must have rushed in the river to help the angel. But, judging by how soaked the demon was, Crowley must have beaten her to it. 

Aziraphale draped his arms around himself. The weather was mild and being so wet made him shiver with cold. 

'Come on, let's change into something dry.' Crowleg suggested, lifting his hand, ready to transform with a snap. 

'Wait.' The angel cried. 'Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe if we returned looking dishevelled, Mrs Device would be more willing to listen.' 

'Are you planning on implying that she was about to do something drastic?' Crowley nodded towards Anathema.

'More like allowing her to jump to conclusions.' Said Aziraphale defensively.

The demon thought for a moment, then took his jacket off and wrapped it around the angel's shoulder in a pointless gesture of chivalry, as it was just as wet as the rest of the his outfit. But he also hooked his arm around Aziraphale, which, despite everything, warmed him up a great deal. Crowley began to walk along the length of the river, dragging Aziraphale along, with Anathema in tow.

'Was this all part of a new ploy?' The demon was looking everywhere but at him. 'Because if so, I would have appreciated a bit of a heads up. I got really worried there, angel.' 

'I'm terribly sorry, my dear.' Gasped Aziraphale. 'We didn't mean for any of this to happen. We were just having a conversation.'

'What, at the bottom of the river? Could you not talk somewhere less lethal?'

'You see,' Aziraphale persisted with his monologue, despite his teeth chattering, turning towards the witch, while she made an effort to catch up with them. 'you've lived a sheltered life until now, Anathema. You _ knew _ you'll live to this age. You could have thrown yourself off a skyscraper with the absolute certainty that you'll somehow miraculously survive because the world's only accurate prophet had foreseen it. And that is an unusual experience. No one else in the world has that kind of knowledge.' 

He said that gesturing at his shivering self with his chin. 

'But that is over now. Agnes guided you to this point, but she is letting go of your hand. So she gave you a field day, a crash course is the expression I think, in what it is to be like the rest of us. She showed you the dichotomy of life, where every decision you make has the potential to the best and the worst one you've ever made. She wanted you to chose something and to experience all the joy and hardship that comes from making a firm stance.'

'The old bitch is giving you the freedom of will.' Crowley summarised it, quickly catching on. 'You won't always thank her for that. But ultimately, I think you'll enjoy it.'

'Crowley should know.' Added the angel. 'He is talking from experience.'

'So there is no second book of prophecies?" 

'No. I don't think there ever was. Or that there will be one. Maybe she didn't have time for that. Maybe she chose not to write it. Perhaps she got tired. Being omnipresent might do that to you.'

They went tumbling through the woods, wandering back to the estate. The Tadfield river ducked underground a couple miles back; that made both the angel and the witch look quite embarrassed. Crowley merely appeared exasperated.

'My mother will not be happy about this.' Smiled Anathema wryly, after some thought. 'She was sincerely hoping that we'll get more prophecies.' 

'Tell her that a book should show up, if there's a real need.' Suggested Crowley. 'That you think Agnes would have wanted to warn us, if there was a real threat. I mean, why go in all that trouble to save the world, then let it end the second time round?'

'But that would be a lie.'

'Or just a more optimistic spin.' Crowley winked. 

'But you don't think that's true?' 

'Not necessarily.' Admitted the angel. 

'So you think she just… stopped helping?' 

'Think of it this way, 'Crowley said gently. 'she saw that you got it right the first time round. She trusted that you'll be fine. You should start to trust yourself too.'

Anathema thought about that, then looked at the celestial beings.

'Crowley, Aziraphale I'm sorry. I'm going to do what I should have done to begin with, and speak to my mother.'

'About time.' Mumbled the demon. 

They walked back to the Manor, crossing the manicured lawn and by now there were obvious groups of spectators everywhere, craning their necks to learn more about the baffling incident taking place. When they saw Crowley, dressed in a tuxedo, support the drenched Aziraphale, whose outfit still resembled a wedding dress, they erupted in cheers and whistles. The gossip around the office coffee machine will be so much better than usual, some of them thought. They pushed quickly past the crowd and walked straight into their dithering group of guests by the Manor entrance.

'Anathema!' Screamed Mrs Device and she ran across the parking lot and gathering her daughter in her arms, whispered endearments in her native tongue. Newt was quickly besides them, looking worried, hovering uncertainly at the perfiere of the mother-daughter reunion. 

The others surrounded Aziraphale and Crowley, talking at once.

'Let's get you inside.' Madam Tracey insisted, ushering them towards of the warmth of the building.

'What happened to you?' Adam demanded.

'I fell in the river.' Admitted the angel.

'Best wedding ever!' Concluded Pepper with awe, nearly earning herself a smack. 

They were guided back to the room, pushed down on adjacent chairs, asked for explanations then promptly interrupted by worried exclaims of "Are you sure you are alright?". Ms Hodges showed up with oodles of blankets with camouflage patterns and draped all of them over the soaked pair. 

Over at the side, Anathema was talking to her mom in fast flowing Spanish. Whenever they mentioned Crowley's name the demon flashed a sardonic smile at them. Aziraphale, on the other hand, could barely stand their glances because he knew they were discussing all his lies. He must have looked plain miserable, because the demon reached out and laced the fingers together, encouragingly. But if he expected Crowley to pull away immediately, he was shocked to realise that he wasn't planning on doing that. The charade was over, there was no need for them to feign affection, yet here he was, holding the angel as long Aziraphale needed him to, as fiercely loyal as ever. It was one of those traits that made loving the demon so easy and easy was the last thing he expected from this relationship.

In fact, he imagined that his continued acquaintance with Crowley would be the most treacherously dangerous thing he'd ever do; and committed to it anyway largely due to the demon's inherent trust in him. It may not have been the day when he realised his love for Crowley, but the day when they met had a profound effect on him. There was something fatalistic about the way Crowley walked up to him on the wall, so soon after the War, just as he committed his first ever evil deed and his biggest one to this day. Aziraphale always thought the demon was tempting fate, taunting him to smite in his own sad, resigned way, expecting that every transgression would result in divine repercussions. Aziraphale was too busy worrying about his own sins, his disobedience fresh on his mind. He imagined he would fall that very moment, so he didn't feel in the position to judge anyone. So he answered unintelligibly and offered a sheltering wing, expecting to be bunkmates with the demon in Purgatory soon enough. And thus the friendship between Heaven's least holy angel and Hell's most approachable demon was born. Crowley, reckless thwarting abandoned on the spot, had accepted the olive branch; _ why if you think I'm worthy of salvation than it must be so. _ What immense trust that was, he always marvelled and tried his best to be worthy of the power vested in him.

He made a point of showing Crowley that he chose to be with him not because he was an angel in disguise. He talked openly and freely about Crowley being a demon, voicing if he thought that a predicament was Crowley's demonic work or reminding Crowley that he didn't expect him to feel things alien to his nature. It was going to be a risk, he imagined, trusting someone who had betrayal in his job description. Except it wasn't. Crowley never lied to him once and took it upon himself to protect him from the consequences of their friendship, defying all of the angels expectations. 

Lulled by the warmth of the blankets and the memories he felt a bit shocked when the agitated registrar pushed past the defensive line of their friends and planted herself firmly in front of them. 

'Would somebody care to explain me what is going on?' 

'I need a drink.' Sighed the long suffering demon. 'How about we explain ourselves over dinner?'

Aziraphale could have kissed him - all he wanted to do was to sink his teeth into some angel food cake for comfort.

'Whose wedding was this going to be?' Insisted the registrar. It seemed they were not getting dinner after all. 'Was there even a wedding to begin with?' 

'Yes.' Admitted Aziraphale. 'But it wasn't ours.' 

'But you are Anthony? And Aziraphale? Because everything is well in order.' The registrar looked baffled. From her point of view everything was in good shape to marry the couple, so she still couldn't comprehend why did they run off, along with their guests. 'I still have all your paperwork.' 

'That may be, but should you look, you will see that you've got Anathema's and Newt's papers too, as they were to ones you were originally invited to officiate.'

'Is this something to do with tax fraud?' Sighed the registrar, feeling more confused by the minute.

'No!' Cried the angel, blushing. He took pride in being a meticulous taxpayer. 'We were just trying to help our friends get wedded. Well, we thought we were helping.'

'You were trying to help by taking over their wedding?' 

'Yes!' The angel said triumphantly, then. 'No! I mean… it's complicated.' 

'Well, then,' sighed the registrar, contemplating her watch. 'I would appreciate if you'd let me know if there's going to be a wedding after all. So it happens that this is the busiest day of the season, and I should already be on my way for the next wedding, so…'

'The way things are looking,' Aziraphale risked a glance at the Device ladies. 'you should probably just move on.' 

'Fine.' The registrar gathered her briefcase and straightened her pantsuit, making sure to show her annoyance. It was only partly about being deceived. Because here was a handsome couple and they looked so much in love and she was a bit of a softy and looked forward to marrying them. She would have been willing to overlook this whole calamity and just get on with the proceedings. She would have been willing to be late from her next appointment. But this seemed to be a day when nobody gets what they wanted. 'If you'll excuse me then…'

She moved towards the door, just as Mrs Device's hostile and angry cry came through.

'Just where do you think you are going?'

She froze on the spot and so did everyone else.

'Did you not have a job to do?' Demanded Mrs Device, walking up to the her, followed by Anathema and Newt.

The registrar looked at the young couple over Mrs Device's shoulder, unsure.

'Do they have your blessing after all?' Crowley wanted to know. 'Are they getting married?' 

'What, these two?' Mrs Device looked at him, surprised. 'Sure they have my blessing. But they are not the ones getting married today."

There was an annoyed huff spreading in ripples through the crowd, which Mrs Device ignored.

'They are young. They've got plenty of time for that. Maybe they can spend a day or two acting like responsible adults before they make such a big decision. But I've been talking about you two.' She pointed at the angel and the demon.

Aziraphale raised a hand to his throbbing temple. This was mortifying.

'My dear lady, we've deliberately mislead you.' He said it plainly. 'Us getting married was never the plan.' 

'Plans change.' Mrs Device waved the objections away. 'If everything is there for you to get married anyway, why not go through with it? You've waited long enough. You've earned the right.' 

'Because it was all a bluff.' The angel repeated, getting more exasperated by the minute. 'There's absolutely no need for us to…'

'Isn't there?' Mrs Device interrupted him. 'Can you not think of one single reason for you to get married? None?' 

'I…'

'Because you are not in love, right? That was only deceit too. Loving each other since the ancient days, since the beginning of time it was all, somehow, part of an elaborate ruse.' Mrs Device crossed her arms, staring down at them like they were a pair of misbehaving children.

'Mom, maybe you should let it go…' suggested Anathema sotto voce, registering just how awkward the celestial beings looked.

'Oh, I will.' Mrs Device assured her, but the expression in her voice suggested the opposite. 'All they have to do is tell me that they don't have feelings for each other and I will back off.'

_ Oh that should be easy. _ Sighed Aziraphale, relieved. He turned to Crowley expectantly, waiting for him to set the record straight. Because even if there was something between them all those years ago, the angel's repeated rejection must have eroded it completely by now. All those instances of "_he is not my friend_" and "_I don't even like you_" and "_you go too fast for me_" had to have their consequences. So no matter how ready he was now or what his feelings were, they surely weren't mutual any more.

But long seconds passed, like a succession of small eternities and the demon just sat there, staring ahead of himself, motionless, mute. Aziraphale could feel his pulse quicken and for the second time in one day, he came dangerously close to discorporating. 

'I see.' Mrs Device was strangely pleased, like a teacher who just got a correct answer from her densest student. 'So tell me, Aziraphale, do you love Crowley?' 

Oh, that was a good question and a stupid question all the same. The answer yielded immense power. It made the demon turn around, staring at Aziraphale, from behind the shelter of his glasses.

'I mean, we are an angel. And demon.' He began slowly, trying to study Crowley's reaction, but there was no way of telling what was on his mind based on his impassive expression only. "We are hereditary enemies.'

But whether or not he got encouragement from the demon's reaction, he felt it was time he began to return honesty with honesty. 

'And I love him ever so much.' He said firmly and with much more bravado he thought himself capable of. 

There it was, the truth, out in the open. No more hiding in the cracks, no more liminal spaces. It was a terrifying, vulnerable experience, but it also felt like putting a heavy burden down, he didn't even know he'd been carrying until now.

'And do you, Crowley,' Anathema's mother sounded more like a registrar than the registrar herself. 'love Aziraphale?'

'I am a fallen, you must never forget that.' Responded the demon gravely. 'You can't even explain love to my kind, not to us.' 

Oh, well, that wasn't terribly unexpected, though Crowley made it rather easy for people to overlook his origins. But Aziraphale did not let his brave smile falter, because this was all besides the point. Crowley could be anything, demon, fallen angel, it didn't matter, as long as it was him. And he was just about speak up and reassure his friend about this, when Crowley continued: 

'And yet, here I am, wholeheartedly in love with the angel.'

There was a moment of silence then an unholy shriek emerged from the general direction of Madam Tracey. If he would have turned to look, the angel could have seen her clawing excitedly at Sargent Shadwell's arm. But Aziraphale had only eyes for the demon. He reached out, removed his glasses and found, that despite his severe expression, Crowley's eyes were smiling, framed by the tiny wrinkles he adored so much.

'You may kiss the groom then.' Mrs Device announced and since it was unclear just whom she'd addressed they both moved, in unison, kissing each other at the same time.

_ And even though, the fact remains that despite the cake, and the dress, the registrar and the guests, Crowley and Aziraphale did not get married that or any other day, fear not! Because they were husbands from there on out, in every sense but the official. _


End file.
